


Patterns

by smaller



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Body Horror, Canonical Character Death, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Ghosts, Gore, KuroFai Olympics, M/M, Supernatural Elements, loss of a loved one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4182129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaller/pseuds/smaller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the Fantasy vs Sci-Fi 2015 KuroFai Olympics event on DreamWidth, for the prompt "Nightlife" for Team Fantasy.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Fantasy vs Sci-Fi 2015 KuroFai Olympics event on DreamWidth, for the prompt "Nightlife" for Team Fantasy.

_Yuui?_

_Fai tried to open his eyes, but something was holding them shut._

_Yuui!_

_He struggled to move, to find his brother. Somebody was saying something, but he couldn’t understand the words._

_‘I’m going to be sick.’_

_He could feel Yuui’s hand in his, but something wasn’t right._

_‘Don’t touch him. Oh gods, seal it!’_

_Something was chewing on the inside of his skull. He screamed and tried to claw at his head._

_‘Is he going to be alright?’_

_He was pinned beneath Yuui’s body. There was smoke everywhere and somebody was screaming._

_‘Shh, don’t move. You’ll be alright.’_

_No, he would never be alright, Yuui-_

_‘Are you alright?’_

_No, he was-_

_‘Are you alright?’_

_His very bones were cracking, they were splintering apart-_

_‘Are you alright?’_

Fai snapped awake. The driver of the coach was looking down at him through the roof hatch. “Are you alright, m’lord?” he was asking. He looked concerned.

Fai drew in a shuddering breath and dragged his hands over his face. He pasted on a smile for the coachman and said, “You’re too kind! Just a little motion sickness, I’m afraid. I'm sure I’ll feel better once I’m off the road.”

The coachman wisely said nothing more, and closed the hatch. Fai let his head fall back against the seat. One hand crept back up to fidget with the eye patch, and Fai watched the countryside pass outside the windows with his remaining eye, and tried not to fall asleep again.

 

Clow Province was a tiny, mostly insignificant region on the most distant outskirts of the kingdom. It was isolated from politics, and had very little military use. Nobody was terribly interested in the scrap of self-sufficient, agreeably tax-paying, arid land, no matter how hardy and peaceable the folk it produced.

But it did have a sturdy, if drafty, old castle, and was _technically_ entitled to court appointees, like an official Wizard, sent to the countryside ‘for his health’. Even if it hadn’t had a wizard for two or three centuries.

Fai knew perfectly well that he was being sent there to get him out of the way. He was an embarrassment to the College, which made him an Official Embarrassment to the Crown, and best kept out of sight.

He wasn’t expecting much.

 

The castle town was actually a fair size, bustling with local trade. People stopped to watch the coach with interest, but little surprise. Fai supposed that news travelled fast here. When they pulled up at last at the castle, he could see it was in quite good repair. There was a well-dressed young woman waiting outside the keep, with a young man a step behind her, holding a ledger.

The lady’s face lit up in a wide, sunny smile as Fai stepped out of the coach, and she hurried up to him, holding her skirts out of the way. She curtsied deeply. “Welcome to Clow, High Wizard Flowright.”

He took her hand and tried to mask his grimace behind a courtly bow and a kiss to her hand. “Please, Baroness, do call me just ‘Fai.’” Nobody in the capitol had dared to actually suggest he be stripped of the title of High Wizard, but everyone had pointedly avoided using it, himself included.

The baroness blushed prettily, and said “C-call me Sakura, then! Everybody does!” She turned, still flustered, to the young man beside her, and continued, “This is Syaoran, my seneschal. He’ll show you to the rooms we’ve prepared for you. Please make yourself at home! We can bring your things...” she faltered a bit, confused, when the coachman handed down a single case, probably having expected him to have a great deal more luggage. Fai smiled blandly, and she recovered after just the smallest hitch. “You’re welcome to join us for supper tonight in the great hall, but if you’d rather rest after your trip, just visit the kitchens any time you like and the cook will be happy to get you something.”

Fai smiled a little wider and bowed to her again. “You’re too kind, your ladyship.” He took his case, nodded thanks to the coachman, and followed the lad Syaoran into the castle.

As they walked, the young seneschal talked knowledgeably about bits of Clow history, pointing out relevant architecture or wall hangings. Fai made appropriately interested-sounding noises, but paid little attention. He had managed to avoid sleeping long enough to dream again during the coach ride, taking only brief rests, and he was exhausted. He was looking forward to four stone walls and a solid wooden door behind which he could finally sleep, and keep his nightmares private.

They reached the rooms, with a door as solid as Fai could have hoped, and the seneschal unlocked it with a key, which he handed to Fai. He lit an oil lamp and led the way in, chatting away about the history of the suite’s previous occupants.

“Syaoran, wasn’t it?” Fai asked in a break, and he nodded. “If you don’t mind, I _am_ rather tired from the road. I would love to hear all this again another time, though.”

Syaoran looked abashed, and excused himself with apologies, leaving the lamp behind. Fai smiled at him, and very carefully did not slam the door after the lad.

Fai sighed to himself. He really hadn’t been trying to upset the entire chief household before he’d even been living here for an hour. With effort, he managed to place a simple ward over the door, wincing as a headache sprang up immediately behind the eyepatch. He left his case where it was and went directly to the bedchamber, pausing only to work his boots off before falling onto the bed and letting exhaustion claim him at last.

 

Fai awoke much later, feeling muzzy still. The lamp Syaoran had left had burned low, and outside the windows he could see the glimmerings of pre-dawn on the horizon. He’d slept half a day and nearly an entire night.

Though he still felt tired, it didn’t make sense to go back to bed at this hour, so Fai set about unpacking.

He opened his case. Fai hadn’t wanted to leave anything of his – or Yuui’s – behind. It would be best for everyone if he was thoroughly forgotten. Therefore, the case contained, in dimensional pockets he’d enchanted easily back in their student days: his entire wardrobe, his library, his writing supplies, his clock, various magical implements he wouldn’t be using anymore, other necessities and novelties, and a chest full of Yuui’s belongings. That, he left alone.

Fai’s new rooms included a sitting room, a bedchamber with a wardrobe, and a private bathchamber – no plumbing, just a freestanding round tub to fill by bucket. After putting some of his clothing away, he brought his writing set to the desk in the sitting room. It was still dark, and the lamp was finally guttering out, so he lit a candle and uncapped his inkwell, opening the slim journal he had started keeping. Fai’s pen hovered while he tried to order his thoughts for the page.

“That’s my desk,” said a voice, behind him, very clearly.

Fai D. Flowright, onetime High Wizard, master magician, graduate of the harrowing curriculum at the College of Magery, squeaked and leapt upright, banging his knee painfully under the desk and upending the chair _and_ the inkwell. He snatched up the journal and tried to stop the spreading ink.

“That’s my chair, too,” the voice continued irritably, “You’re in my rooms. I should throw you out myself.”

Fai turned slowly, scalp prickling. He could feel the ward on his door still active, and the windows were too small for anyone to have come through. These rooms had been empty, and he would have noticed any secret passageway.

In the flickering light of the single candle, Fai saw nothing but shadows. He blinked and refocused, and in the shadows he could make out a looming, ghostly figure, glaring at him with hostile red eyes.

“Not going to pretend you can’t hear me anymore, hey?”

Fai gaped. Through the windows, the sun was beginning to rise, and the figure disappeared in the light of dawn like fading mist.


	2. Chapter 2

Fai had never actually seen a ghost before. Hauntings and exorcisms were typically the domain of priests. Wizards _could_ perform exorcisms, but most didn’t consider them a valuable use of their time. In his current state, though, Fai doubted he could perform an effective exorcism anyway. And besides that, he was a little interested in the phenomenon. After all, he’d never encountered it before.

He wandered the castle hallways in the early morning, exploring a bit. He wasn’t very hungry, but he hoped to be able to catch the baroness or her seneschal to find out whether they knew the rooms they had given him were haunted. If so, Fai doubted it was an intentional slight – his best guess was that they hoped that by placing him in those rooms he would take care of the ghost problem without them having to ask him to. People were often wary of asking wizards for favors, which suited wizards just fine.

He was surprised, then, when, after learning from a maid which hour the baroness usually broke her fast, he wandered into the great hall to have Lady Sakura invite him happily over to sit beside her, and then lean over and whisper to him, “Did you sleep well? Did you meet our ghost?”

Fai blinked, and replied, “Yes, but why are we whispering?”

Sakura looked around. Only Syaoran was within hearing distance, seated at her right, and he nodded solemnly at them.

“Well,” she continued in a more normal voice and handing Fai a tray of sweet rolls that he ignored, “he’s _sort_ of a family secret. Most people can’t see him, I’m the only one now, and he mostly stays in that wing, _and_ he only appears at night, so I don’t get to visit with him very often.” She looked up at Fai with the most deeply sympathetic expression he’d ever seen. “I was hoping that you wouldn’t mind being his friend? I should have asked first, I know, I’m so sorry! I was going to tell you about him at supper, but you were so tired, and I wasn’t able to.” She fidgeted guiltily with her fork. “I can give you different rooms, if you want.”

Fai thought about it.

He wasn’t there to make friends, no matter how soulfully a pretty young lady begged him with her eyes. But it _would_ be something to pass the time.

Sakura seemed to have had the same thoughts, because she continued, “I know Clow will probably be very boring for you. Sheep aren’t very grand after you’ve lived in the capitol.”

Fai winced inwardly. It would be unpleasant to live here if the lady of the castle felt insulted for any reason, and he opened his mouth to say something reassuring, but the baroness continued hastily.

“Oh no, it’s fine! I wouldn’t blame you at all. I’ve been to the capitol too, it’s very different from here, and the wizard’s college is just incredible.” She seemed utterly guileless, and Fai stared. “I like our sheep and wool, but if I’d grown up with the College I’m sure I wouldn’t like Clow as much.”

Fai’s smile was closer to genuine this time. “Now, _that_ I don’t believe. You seem like the kind of person who likes every place she visits, my Lady.”

She blushed, and her clerk spoke up. “You’re right about that, Master Flowright. Her Ladyship is the kindest person I know.”

Sakura blushed harder, and Fai said to the lad, “Please do just call me ‘Fai.’ And, that reminds me, you were telling me some of the castle history yesterday, and I wasn’t listening very well. Would you do me the kindness of telling me again?”

Syaoran looked a little embarrassed. “I was trying to be subtle, and work my way around to the ghost slowly. I suppose you don’t really want to hear the _entire_ lecture?”

 

Ultimately, there wasn’t a whole lot they could tell him about the ghost. They just didn’t know very much. Family records had been lost, or never mentioned him at all, and to say he wasn’t talkative was an understatement. They knew that his name was Kurogane, and that he’d been part of the castle guard back when the castle really _had_ been in use as a military fortification, more than five hundred years ago. The ghost kept to himself, never troubled the staff or frightened livestock. Most people couldn’t see him, after all, so there weren’t any rumors associated with him, apart from speculation about why rooms in that old wing were seldom offered to guests. Sakura said that he seemed surprised whenever she tried to talk to him.

“Lady Sakura, though,” Fai said at one point, “I’m surprised that you can see him. Does your family have magical ability?”

She nodded. “All of my family have a little bit of spiritual power. When my ancestors make mention of him in their journals, usually it’s just sightings in his rooms, or the wing that used to be the barracks. We try not to put guests or visitors in his old suite, just in case. And Syaoran has magic too, but he’s never studied formally.”

Fai looked at him questioningly, and Syaoran shrugged. “I’d rather stay with her Ladyship than go to the wizard’s College. Anyway,” he continued, “I can’t actually see the ghost myself, but I’ve heard him up on the battlements. We don’t keep a standing guard in Clow anymore, but sometimes when I’m up there at night, I hear him giving orders.”

Fai hummed. From what he’d read, that wasn’t unusual. Ghosts tended to replicate commonplace actions that the living person had done. There was scholarly debate on the subject, but most meta-philosophers agreed that ghosts were nothing more than very stable psychic residues, patterns of something that had once been living that had left an imprint of itself behind on the fabric of existence. They manifested visual representations of themselves based on the dominant self-image the pattern still held, but they were no more sentient than a reflection in a mirror.

He looked down at his hands. He was holding a roll and picking at it.

Fai knew he needed the good graces of the household if he was going to live there. Everyone had been so welcoming that clearly not a hint of the story behind his exile in all but name had made it this far. He doubted that he would continue to have peaceful accommodations if ever word of _“magical explosion kills 32, dimensional rift barely sealed in time”_ reached anyone’s ear. He couldn’t be run out of town, as his was technically an official crown appointment, but everyone would learn soon enough that this wizard barely qualified for the name, and things could become...unpleasant. If he did this for the baroness, she would be more inclined to accept eccentricities from him, and possibly not question too closely if he didn’t seem like a typical wizard.

Perhaps this way he could avoid more trouble than he felt like facing yet. Sakura was watching him hopefully.

Fai put on his most charming smile, and said, “Well, then, what have I got to lose?”

 

Fai had no idea how to go about interacting with a ghost. He liked to know as much as possible going into any situation, but information here was scanty.

At least it seemed he didn’t have to worry about the apparition being hostile, based on Sakura’s family lore. He could scarcely defend himself against a child with a crooked wand now, let alone a malicious shade.

So Fai dithered until he decided that since he didn’t really care, it didn’t actually matter what he did. If the ghost never appeared, he could simply tell the baroness, with a shrug, that perhaps the restless spirit had finally moved on. And if it did appear, he would improvise.

He flopped onto the bed. It was late afternoon. Perhaps he should nap before evening. Fai closed his eye, and if this time his dreams were filled with ravening spectres, all to the good, then – at least they wouldn’t be filled instead with his brother’s screams.

 

Fai woke to the sound of a disgusted snort, and someone saying, “Shameful.” He sat up and rubbed his eye, gummy with sleep, and blinked until it cleared. He’d obviously overslept, and had neglected to light any lamps.

The bedchamber was dark, but the room was on an upper level exterior wall, and moonlight streamed in pure white bars through the narrow windows. There was someone sitting in the chair near the bed, illuminated quite clearly by a moonbeam.

Fai noticed the eyes first, a deep red color that it seemed he hadn't imagined the night before. The figure’s arms were crossed, and it was wearing armor, a scarred and damaged breastplate over torn chainmail. A tattered red cape hung from its shoulders, and an empty scabbard hung from a sword belt around its waist. It was more or less translucent – Fai could make out the back of the chair through its form, and, judging by the fact that Fai could also see a small embroidered cushion sharing _actual_ space with the ghost’s left thigh, it was incorporeal as well, despite seeming to be able to occupy a chair.

He stared at it.

It glared at him.

Fai had always had to take a while after waking up to achieve much coherency. Yuui used to tease him about it – _he_ could spring out of bed, refreshed immediately and able to recite magical formulae backwards and upside down. Fai would never get to grumble good-naturedly to him about it again.

He stared at the ghost some more. His brain clicked a little more fully into place, and he said, “What’s shameful?”

The ghost gestured at him. “You. Asleep in _my_ bed with boots on.”

There was one thing Fai did intend to get straight immediately, in no mood to humor the ghost’s fixation on ownership of these rooms – no matter how much it couldn’t help the inherently fixated nature of being a ghost.

“Actually,” he told it, “these are _my_ rooms. Which makes this _my_ bed, and therefore the desk and chair outside are mine, too.”

The ghost looked disgruntled. “Well. You still shouldn’t sleep with boots on.”

It wasn’t arguing. Had it already understood that these hadn’t been its rooms for a very long time? Had it just been trying to convince Fai to leave, then?

Now that Fai was starting to wake up properly, he was becoming interested despite himself. The ghost wasn’t showing any signs of disappearing, so clearly it wasn’t _that_ upset by Fai’s presence here. And this was a phenomenon he’d never studied before. Briefly, he entertained an idle thought or two on taking notes and publishing something on them, before remembering why he wasn’t interested in magical scholarship anymore. He stood hastily and walked into the sitting room to find a lamp.

He got one lit on the second try, doing his best to think about nothing at all. Fai turned, holding the lamp, and startled back immediately. The ghost was standing - looming, really - right there in front of him.

Fai hadn’t heard it move at all, and mentally kicked himself when he realized that of course he wouldn’t have.

Goodness, it was _tall_. And Fai had never been _stared at_ with such relentless intensity for so long in his life. It was frankly unsettling.

“Er, so,” he began, and maybe he wasn’t completely awake yet after all, because after having drawn a complete blank all day on the subject of conversation openers with a 500 year old ghost, he still had thought himself capable of improvising something more elegant than, “what’s your name?”

The ghost honestly looked surprised to be asked, and Fai hadn’t known ghosts could show surprise. Fai already knew its name, of course, but getting it to introduce itself did seem like the polite thing to do.

“...It’s Kurogane.” The ghost’s face was a complex mix of emotions, and Fai didn’t really know what to do with that.

So he held out a hand and said “Fai D. Flowright, at your service.”

The ghost raised its own hand to Fai’s proffered handshake, reflexively, and it passed completely through Fai’s, leaving a chill and faint tingle in its wake.

They both stared at their hands, and Fai spoke first. “Ah.. I really am sorry about that. I didn’t think that one through.”

The ghost shrugged one shoulder, looking uncomfortable. “You surprised me. Talking to me. I wasn’t thinking either.” It rubbed its incorporeal palm against an incorporeal thigh, and really, how did _that_ work?

Fai asked, “Does anyone else talk to you?” mostly to fill the silence, but also to confirm what lady Sakura had told him.

The ghost nodded. “There’s a young lady who says hello to me sometimes. Asks me how I’m doing, if nobody else is around. She probably doesn’t want to get spotted talking to ghosts.”

Self-awareness, another surprise. Fai was beginning to wonder if the people who’d written what little he’d read on the subject had ever met an actual ghost.

They stood there awkwardly for another few moments, until Fai began to feel silly standing there and holding the lamp. He set it on a table, and sat down, curious to see what the ghost would do.

It had followed him to the table, and after a bit it sat down across from him.

Fai was intrigued. “How are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Sitting. In a chair.”

The ghost gave him a look said quite clearly, _‘I think you’re an idiot but you probably can’t help it so I will be patient’_.

“Chairs are _for_ sitting.”

Fai had very clearly seen the ghost pass through the edge of the table to position itself in the chair. But he gave up, and tried to come up with anything else to do. The silence was stifling - even when it spoke, the ghost's presence was completely unlike that of a person's. There was no creak of wood when it sat down, no faint rustle of clothing against skin, no sounds of breathing. The shadows began to seem heavy with the weight of ages, and suddenly he really wanted to get out of those rooms.

“Let’s walk around for a bit.”

The ghost eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”

Fai shrugged. He didn’t really have a reason, other than that it seemed awkward to leave the ghost there alone, waiting for him to return.

“Well, it’s either that, or watching me unpack the last of my things. So, show me around? I’m new to the castle. You can help me learn my way around, show me all the secret passages, that sort of thing.”

The ghost gave him that _look_ again. “There aren’t any secret passages. It’s a castle, not a romance novel.”

Which, really opened up questions like, had he read romance novels in the past?

“Well, do you have anything better to do, Kuro-ghost?”

The ghost narrowed its eyes. “It’s Kuro _gane_ , _wizard_.”

Fai couldn’t help himself. He put on an expression of surprise and said, “Ohhh, I beg your pardon, Kurogane, Wizard!”

The ghost made a noise of disgust at the word play.

Fai actually was curious, though. “How did you know I’m a wizard, by the way?”

A shrug. “You smell funny.” Fai had no idea what to make of that, or what possible sensation could be interpreted as scent by a ghost. It glowered at him some more, before standing and saying, “Fine, then. Come on.”

Fai stood. “Come where?”

“You’re the skinniest bastard I’ve ever seen. We’re going to the kitchens. You’re probably pathetic-looking enough that they’ll feed you this late.”

Fai hurried to open the door. He wanted to feel affronted, but he was more relieved than anything that they were doing something other than stand – or sit – uncomfortably watching one another. And he supposed he ought to eat eventually, though he still didn't see much point.

 

The next night the ghost really did watch Fai unpack the few things he had left. It followed him around like a translucent, unhappy puppy, and complained mistrustfully every time Fai pulled something out of his case that shouldn’t have fit inside it, or eyed with suspicion the elaborately-bound tomes Fai arranged on a bookcase.

Eventually, the case was empty except for the chest of Yuui’s things. Fai looked at it bleakly, and tried to ignore the presence standing over his shoulder and examining the chest as well. There had been very little that he and Yuui had not shared, and now the entirety of it was packed into that single chest. Fai shut the case and slid it beneath the bed. He wanted nothing more than to lay down right there and sleep forever without dreams.

He wanted his brother back.

“Hey, mage. Get up.”

Fai didn’t bother moving. “I’m not hungry.”

“Too bad,” the ghost said, bluntly. “If you starve to death in my rooms, you’ll probably turn into a ghost and haunt them, and then I’ll never be rid of you.”

Fai tried to glare at it, but the ghost didn’t seem impressed. So he let himself be badgered into standing and walking through the empty hallways to the kitchens, and the part that hurt most was that he _did_ feel better afterward with some food in him.

It felt like betrayal.

The ghost seemed satisfied, though, and let him go to bed without comment when they returned.

Fai woke after dawn, shaking and miserable after nightmares he couldn’t even remember distinctly.

 

Kurogane showed up the next night, and the next. As soon as the sun was below the horizon, the ghost would appear. It quickly became a routine that it would follow Fai around and watch or comment grouchily on whatever Fai was doing, and then badger him into visiting the kitchens.

The cookstaff were friendly, and never said a word of surprise when the one-eyed wizard showed up, sleepless at strange hours, to ask for whatever was available for a meal. And if they heard him talking to himself any? Well, wizards were peculiar, and it was certainly no business of theirs.

Fai got into the habit of retiring close to dawn, and sleeping part of the day. And perhaps it was the altered sleeping patterns, or perhaps he was simply tired enough after spending most of the night hours wandering the castle with a ghost, but after those first few nights, he did notice an abating of night terrors. He didn't know whether to allow himself to feel grateful about it.

 

Later that week, Fai was poking at the fire grate as the sun went down. He felt the wards on the door tingle as something tried to pass through them, and looked over his shoulder to see the ghost looking thoroughly irritated.

“Mage. What the hell did you do to the door?”

“What?”

The ghost tried to walk through the door again, and was stopped by a crackle of magical energy. It turned to glare at Fai.

“Oh,” Fai shrugged. “I guess you can’t pass the wards I put up.”

“Why do you need to ward _my_ door?”

“Well, Kuro-ghost, _I_ live here. It’s been that way the whole time. Just walk through the wall instead.”

Kurogane looked scandalized. “What do you mean, walk through the wall?”

Fai cocked his head. “You’ve really never done that?”

“Why the hell would I try _walking through a wall_?”

A pause. “You’re a ghost. You walk through doors all the time, and I do mean _through_ them!”

Kurogane stared like Fai was an idiot. “They’re _doors_ , you dolt. They’re _meant_ for going through.”

Fai couldn’t tell if Kurogane had honestly never noticed that it didn’t open doors to pass through them like a corporeal person. The ghost seemed truly baffled, and Fai supposed it was possible that some of the realities of undeath simply didn’t register on the leftover psyche. It probably wasn’t possible to even explain it in a way that would be understood, so he didn’t try.

“Why do you even want to go out in the first place?” he asked, curious.

“It’s my night for patrol duty,” Kurogane replied. “Three nights a week.”

Fai had been unable to find much about ghosts in the books he’d brought with him. His library had focused on other magical topics. But it was probably futile to try to disrupt their routines, he mused to himself.

This one was looking agitated enough already, so Fai got up to open the door for it. Kurogane nodded gruffly, then stepped through, and paused. “How am I going to get back in?”

Fai was both irritated, and impressed that the ghost was capable of extrapolating a current circumstance into a future need. He was sure he hadn’t read any accounts mentioning that degree of presence.

“I’ll adjust the wards to let you through,” he said.

Kurogane considered that for a moment, then said, shortly, “Thanks,” and left.

Fai watched the ghost stride away down the dark hallway, nonexistent cloak swirling around its legs, with determined footsteps that didn’t make a sound.

 

Fai could tell when he woke up that afternoon that it was going to be a bad day.

His head throbbed behind the eyepatch, and he could feel the _thing_ there moving restlessly. He could barely pull himself out of bed.

It had been a bad idea to fiddle with his wards, and he should have known better. It would have made more sense to take longer and modify the existing matrix than to do as he had, taking it down to re-apply the wards with an exception for apparitions.

As it was, he had used more magic than he should have, and it had woken the creature.

He did his best to ignore it, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to do so for long.

Fai didn’t have a name for the thing. As far as he had been able to learn, nobody did. It came out of the rift the accident had torn in space, and it had devoured his left eye before any of the other mages had made it to him through the rubble and bodies, to discover it and seal it up where it was before it could spread. It wasn’t something from their world. It was mindless hunger backed up by incredible strength. It had ignored or absorbed most of the magics thrown at it, and since it had latched itself to Fai's very being it could not be banished. So it was kept within the seal. And even tightly contained as it was, it drained his magic passively, leaving only the barest trickle for Fai to use. Usually that seemed enough to content it. But if he tried to draw more of his own power than that thin stream, it disturbed the thing. Nothing he had tried soothed it. It would stir, and chew at his being, seeking more and more magic until there was nothing remaining for it to consume, and only then would it slumber again.

It felt like being eaten alive.

Early, while Fai still had some presence of mind and enough composure to be seen in public, he went to the kitchens for a pail of cold water and a towel. He returned to his rooms, locked the door, and did the best he could to soothe his head and meditate through the worst of it. It didn’t help for long.

The sun dropped steadily towards the horizon while the creature shredded Fai from within, and he slipped in and out of consciousness.

Ghosts weren't really people, Fai knew. And any emotions displayed by one were only echoes of the feelings the living person might have had. Talk of sentience, or souls, or agency, was most likely superstitious hogwash.

It was very convincing hogwash, though, Fai thought distantly as he lay on the bed, sweating and gasping against the pain of the ravenous creature where he used to have an eye, while this ghost sat, looking worried, by Fai’s head, and laid cold hands to his forehead and spoke to him to try and distract him.

Kurogane told Fai at length about the place where he grew up, described the green of the trees in summer, the colorful, happy festivals held in autumn after the harvest. He spoke about his mother and father. He didn’t seem to mind when Fai was too far gone in agony to hear him, but continued speaking in a steady, low rumble. He talked about living in the castle, riding horses, playing strategy games with generals, and most of all he talked about a baroness named Tomoyo.

It helped. It helped. Fai was only marginally present throughout, but it gave him something to focus on even when actual comprehension was beyond his reach, and the chill of Kurogane’s hands on his brow were better by far than lukewarm wet cloths that wouldn’t have stayed anyway with Fai's tossing.

And after an eternity, the thing finally, _finally_ quieted, releasing Fai to blessed darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

The night air of Clow was cool, and the sky was often cloudless, with stars shining pure in the heavens. The castle had a surprisingly large and well-tended flower garden tucked into a secluded corner – Fai suspected lady Sakura’s hand in its keeping – and Fai liked to amble there with Kurogane. He usually didn’t need a lamp at all, there was so much light in the dark sky, far away from the street lamps and mage lights of the capitol.

Fai hadn’t expected the ghost to be interested in flowers, but Kurogane had said he was perfectly capable of appreciating beauty, and anyway it was all the same to him whether they toured a meadow or a midden if it gave the mage something to do.

After the bad night, the ghost had very deliberately not asked what had been going on, and Fai was grateful enough for the privacy that he felt it was worth giving him just a little bit of explanation. A miscalculation of energies. A magical backlash, and a parasitic beast from some other plane. Clean, clinical terms that helped keep it all distant and didn’t give away the finer details. Kurogane had listened carefully, and surprised Fai by asking, after, if there was anything he could do to help if it happened again.

Fai, blinking, had hesitantly offered that what he had done last time had actually helped a great deal, and thanked him.

Kurogane had gotten more talkative since then. Their walks were far more interesting, interspersed with Kurogane relating stories about what the castle had been like for him, and sometimes Fai would share his own anecdotes from before. It felt like a long time since Fai had thought of Kurogane as a mere soulless, residual pattern of spirit energy.

That evening, they visited the gardens for a while, then took the longer route back around the castle, simply because Fai hadn’t gone that way before. At one point, Kurogane slowed and said, appreciatively, “This is Tomoyo’s favorite tree. When the weather’s fine, she holds festivals here, recites poetry, that sort of thing.”

Fai followed his gaze, and frowned. There was nothing there, but... he moved a little closer to Kurogane and let himself feel out his etheric emanations.

Kurogane was looking at a space that was being used as a cow pasture now, but if Fai let his perception shift a little, adjust it to resonate with the ghost’s, he could ‘see’ the memory of a massive tree, with log benches arranged all around it. There were shadows on the benches, memories of people that had lost all detail with time and forgetfulness, except that there had once _been_ people there. Another shadow sat at the base of the tree, a flash of purple forming the shape of a bow at the top of its head and cascading down before fading away. Fai could hear the distant echoes of flutes and tambourines.

The tree must have fallen or been cut down some time during the centuries. There wasn’t even a stump left.

Kurogane had a very faint smile, lost in the memory, and the visible form he manifested in was shifting to align with the structure of it. His incorporeal attire blurred and flowed away from the battered armor he usually appeared in, and resettled into plain civilian clothing – a shirt with laces undone at the throat, loose trousers, and sandals, though his sword belt and empty scabbard remained the same. Fai watched the change, fascinated, and Kurogane noticed him watching.

“She’s good, isn’t she?” he asked, proudly.

“Er. Who is?”

“Tomoyo, of course. Have you met her yet? She’s-” Kurogane broke off, head snapping around to stare at the pasture. “I-” he shook himself, hard. His visible manifestation wavered back into the old armor, and his brow furrowed. “I don’t know why I said that. Forget it.”

Fai didn’t know if it was normal for a ghost to confuse memory with reality that way, when it was normally as self-aware as Kurogane was. Kurogane looked troubled, though, so Fai said, “No, tell me about it, please. What were you remembering?”

Kurogane was quiet, but finally sighed and said, “We were hosting...an ambassador?” He frowned. “...I can’t remember it anymore. Just that Tomoyo sat under the tree in front of everyone, and she played the flute. It was,” he cast about for the right word. “It was beautiful. I never heard her surpass her playing from that night. I’ll never forget that part,” he said with conviction. Then, quieter, “It was so long ago.”

The mood was somber. Kurogane didn’t seem to want to go just yet, looking into the cow pasture with hard eyes, so Fai leaned back against the fence and tipped his head up to watch the sky.

“Kurogane,” he said, after a while.

“Hm.” came the reply.

“Can I ask you something?”

“...If you want to ask, ask.”

“Why are you here?”

Kurogane was silent beside him for so long that Fai thought he didn’t intend to answer. Fai pulled his gaze back to earth, and the solitary shadow he cast there next to the ghost under the moon’s bright glow.

“I don’t know,” he admitted at last. “I thought I was here to keep guarding Tomoyo, but,” he dropped a hand to the empty scabbard at his hip, “I didn’t have my sword anymore. And there were plenty of living guards left, so what point was there for me to stay here like this?”

Fai was well-acquainted with loneliness, but this cut at heart even so.

“She cried when she saw me, after. I don’t know why.”

 

Kurogane seemed restless the next night, and said it was another night for patrol duty. Fai thought ‘fitful haunting’ might be a more appropriate thing to call it, but said nothing – he didn’t like to be a hypocrite.

Fai went to bed early that night, and his dreams were disordered and unrestful. He slept late, and when he woke the next day, the nebulous melancholy still hadn’t lifted.

He shared the midday meal as he sometimes did, with Sakura and Syaoran, pretending not to see the way Sakura bit her lip and watched him with concern whenever she thought he wasn't looking. Fai tried to get himself through the afternoon working on theoretical magical questions, and by the time night fell, he felt a little better. He looked up from his notebook a few minutes into dusk, surprised that Kurogane hadn’t materialized in their rooms, and he was just starting to worry when the ghost walked through the door from the hallway.

He looked at Fai and said, “Good, you’re dressed. Let’s go. And grab a blanket.”

Kurogane led Fai to a tower staircase, and up and up, until they emerged onto a flat space open to the sky.

“Watch,” he commanded, and pointed at a patch of sky above the mountains to the north.

Fai thought he could guess what was going to happen, and, sure enough, after a few minutes he was gratified to see a star flare into being and streak across the sky in a line of white fire before winking out. After a few more minutes of watching the horizon, another star burned itself out in a shining trail across the sky, and shortly after that another followed. Fai unrolled the blanket and sat down, entranced, as the frequency increased. Kurogane sat down next to him and they watched the streaks of light together in the darkness.

“Do you watch meteor showers often?” Fai asked after a span of time.

“Never have.”

Fai looked at him quizzically. “Then how did you know there would be one tonight?”

Kurogane shifted uncomfortably. “I asked that girl who sees me. If there was anything, uh. She thought you might like to do. Toge- um. They started last night, actually, she said. But they last for a few nights. So, if you wanted to come back. You could.”

Fai boggled a little, quietly. He had to have woken Sakura up in the night to ask, unless he had caught her rising industriously before dawn, and Fai wasn’t certain which scenario was more likely. Either way, Kurogane had gone out of his way to visit her, because he had wanted to do something for _Fai_.

They settled back to watching the sky until the number of shooting stars began to lessen. Then it was Kurogane who broke the silence.

“Can I ask _you_ a question now, mage?”

“I suppose that’s only fair,” Fai answered.

“Who’s Yuui?”

Fai froze.

Kurogane must have seen something in his face, because he explained, sounding guilty, “You talk in your sleep.”

Fai hugged his knees to his chest, and didn’t answer immediately. When he finally did, it was in a near-whisper.

“He was my brother.”

Kurogane said nothing more, and bowed his head solemnly.

Fai hadn’t spoken the word aloud before now. _Was._ It hurt.

But, he noted, it hurt a little less than he had thought it would, to say it, now, to a centuries-dead man who Fai realized he might have actually started considering a friend.

From up here, Fai couldn’t hear the quiet sounds of a farming town at night, and the air was cold enough that his breath puffed out in visible clouds. His heart still cried out for his brother, but Kurogane sat, translucent in the starlight beside him, honoring his loss, and stars still flew like brands across the night sky.

And Fai felt, very faintly, something that might have been the beginnings of peace.

 

Fai was humming to himself as night fell a couple of weeks later. Kurogane eyed him with instant suspicion when he materialized near the desk.

“What were you doing in here all day, mage?”

“Oh, just working!”

Kurogane sneered. “Don’t play games with me. You’re up to something.”

“How could you say such a thing!”

“You’re _sitting_ on the _floor_ and _writing_ on it.”

“Oh?” Fai finished the final brushstroke and sat back, admiring his work. Runes zigzagged over the sitting room floor in straight lines and angles, snaking into the bedchamber, the bathchamber, and even out into the hall, each rune connected to a neighbor such that the entire thing was one uninterrupted flow of complex shapes in ink.

He touched the final rune and concentrated to release a drop of magic into it.

The entire network of runes began to glow softly, and Kurogane was brought up short against a translucent barrier. He pounded a fist on it once. In the air, above each line of runes, hung faintly-visible curtains of magic, as solid as stone to the ghost.

“ _What_. The _fuck_ , mage. Let me out!”

“But what would be the fun in that?”

Kurogane growled and _punched_ the barrier. The lines of intersecting runes rippled dangerously as they diffused the energy of the blow. Fai hid his surprise. Kurogane could probably collapse the whole matrix if he kept at it long enough.

He lifted a finger and tsked. “Now, now! It’s a maze, Kuro-boredom! You said you didn’t have anything to do-”

“I never said that!”

“-so I built you a puzzle to solve.”

“ _Do I look like someone who likes puzzles_?”

Fai waved a hand airily. “When you get to the end, I’ve got a reward for you!” He got up to go sit in the armchair by the fire, walking easily in a straight line across the room unaffected by the faint barriers, to Kurogane’s outrage.

Grudgingly, Kurogane paced through the winding aisles. Their rooms were spacious enough, but Fai had still been limited by the space there was, so there were points where Kurogane had to turn sideways to fit down a passage between the hanging barriers, and his shoulders still brushed them even at the widest points. In addition, Fai had been very liberal with dead ends and false turns. Each one earned him more and more dire imprecations, and Fai cheered him on. It was the most fun he’d had in months. He was sure Kurogane would feel the same. ...Once he was free.

It took him half the night.

At last, Kurogane made it to the end of the maze, a rune-inscribed half-circle in front of the fire grate, facing a wide hinged box on the floor, scrawled all over with lines of inked runes in very fine brush strokes.

Fai clapped, “Well done!” and Kurogane turned his back and folded his arms across his chest. He seemed actually offended, and still couldn’t go anywhere, stuck in the endpoint.

“I am not a jester for your amusement, mage.”

Fai quirked a small smile. “I know. Watch this.”

The entire network of runes on the floor had been devised for several purposes: firstly, Fai had made it an amplification matrix, such that the necessarily meager amount of magic he’d added would be enough to power the delicate weaves that were able to block spiritual energies, the second effect of the elaborate writing. The third function was a precise attunement to one very specific spiritual frequency, a self-calibrating matrix that had been refined each time Kurogane had touched the weaves as he walked the maze. Fai needed all three components for this final part to succeed, but the groundwork was already there. All of it had taken hours to plan and inscribe, but this last part was simple with the framework already in place.

Fai knelt behind the box, and used another scrap of magic to activate the inscriptions inked across it. Magical energy rushed through the room, and the lines of ink and barrier magic were pulled swiftly into the box. Kurogane froze in his clear spot, wide-eyed, as magic swirled sparkling around him and disappeared at his feet, and the box glowed white as it absorbed every bit and compacted it.

The rapid flow of magic finally came to an end as the last runes crawled across the ground and disappeared into the box, and Kurogane was speechless.

Fai picked up the now unblemished box, and stood. He brought it over to the table and opened it. It turned out to be a velvet-lined case, containing a tall wooden board etched with a nine-by-nine grid, and a set of wedge-shaped, red stone playing pieces. He selected one of the pieces and walked back to Kurogane, who still had not moved, but who frowned at him and opened his mouth to say something. Fai preempted him.

“Hold out your hand.”

Kurogane frowned harder, but must have heard something in Fai’s tone. He held out his hand. Fai placed the piece onto Kurogane’s palm, and stepped back. And- Kurogane was holding it. His jaw went slack and he didn’t move for long moments.

He stared at the playing piece in his hand with an expression of pure wonder. He touched it with his other hand, picked it up and held it between his fingers. He made a fist around it then passed it from hand to hand and ran a thumb over its polished surface.

Kurogane raised his head a little, not quite meeting Fai’s eyes, and gestured with the piece towards the box. “May I?” he asked in a rough voice, and Fai nodded at him, finding himself suddenly unable to speak. Kurogane stepped slowly over, as if hesitant to move too quickly, and reached into it. He lifted out the playing pieces one by one, running his fingers reverently over each stone wedge, and setting them gently on the table. When he got to the board, at first he simply touched it, taking his time feeling the precise lines of the grid and the hard edges and corners of the wood. Eventually he lifted the board out of its case, and held it.

Fai had no idea how long they stood there, Kurogane’s silent reverence an almost overwhelming presence.

When Kurogane finally looked at him again, it took a moment for the ghost to find his voice. His face held awe and gratitude and something else that Fai couldn’t quite name. Fai felt something tight in his chest loosen a little when Kurogane finally managed to ask, “Do you play?”

Fai nodded again. He already knew that Kurogane played, had heard him speak of matches with military leaders long past. It had been a good choice. Fai went to fetch them both chairs, grateful for the opportunity to hide his face for a moment. He had come up with the idea months ago, of wrapping spirit barriers around something to allow the ghost to touch it, but it had taken him a long time to devise a way of doing so with his limited access to magic. It had been both delicate and cumbersome to do it this way, with his lessened depth perception, and Fai had found himself enjoying the challenge. He had been pleased with his innovation, and proud of his skill, but had not been expecting to be so moved by the dead man’s reaction. He took several deep breaths to calm his heart before returning.

Fai came back, dragging two chairs, and Kurogane placed the board on the table to set up the pieces. At the first quiet but audible ‘clack’ when he laid a piece down, Kurogane closed his eyes tightly for several moments, before opening them to continue arranging the pieces in their starting positions. He had set himself up to play first move, and Fai didn’t begrudge him that at all.

Kurogane took up his first piece, but before he played his move, he looked straight at Fai. His gaze was serious and unflinching, and he said, “Thank you.”

Fai looked down at the board. He’d always done poorly with sincere gratitude, and had no idea what to say, but Kurogane didn’t seem to need a response. The ghost made his move, then Fai made his, and they fell into an easy silence, punctuated only by the soft clacking of the playing pieces on the board.

Kurogane utterly demolished him. Fai was a skilled player himself, and preferred to win, of course, but tonight he had never felt happier to lose.

 

The next night, Kurogane materialized to find Fai shivering and nauseous in bed while the parasite chewed on his soul some more. Fai had known using even that small amount of magic had been a risk, and he was paying for it now, but it had been worth it to see the expression on Kurogane’s face, and he didn’t regret it.

Kurogane called him an idiot, and hovered icy fingers against Fai’s brow and hands to quell the fever of the soul-leech, and Fai endured the hours accompanied by the deep rumble of Kurogane’s voice.

 

They played many games together after that, all through the nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine they're playing something like Shougi.


	4. Chapter 4

The castle hosted Clow Province’s largest harvest celebration every year. The festivities would last all day, with games and food and revelry on the grounds outside, and after nightfall there would be dancing and music and more food in the great hall. Sakura had begged Fai to come, and said that he ought to invite Kurogane, too. They could have a little section of the dais to themselves, where nobody would walk through the ghost unawares, and they could all talk together without it seeming strange to onlookers. It was obvious how much Sakura wanted them both there, so Fai hadn’t taken much convincing to agree to come.

Fai watched the lively dancers from his seat on the dais, and listened to Sakura chat happily with Syaoran about something. Kurogane had spoken little, but didn’t seem discontented to be there, studying the crowded hall with only mild suspicion. It didn’t take long for Sakura, blushing and single-minded, to tug a stammering but unresisting Syaoran down onto the main floor for a dance, to the delight of the entire crowd, who clearly adored their baroness. Kurogane badgered Fai into getting something to eat for himself, rolling his eyes when Fai proclaimed that a plate full of nothing but sugar-covered fried dough was a perfectly acceptable meal at a festival, but didn't argue with him. A little later, Syaoran worked up the courage to invite Sakura to dance with him again, this time to scattered cheers from the crowd. As the pair returned to the dais, blushing and holding hands still, Fai even caught a small, fond expression on Kurogane’s face, which disappeared behind narrowed eyes and a, “Hmph!” as soon as he noticed the wizard watching him.

Fai noted with interest that, after some time, Kurogane began manifesting in a dress uniform. The style was unfamiliar, but elaborate, formal and very well-tailored – and, oh, the sight of him, tall and proud in the uniform was doing funny things to Fai’s stomach. _That_ was new.

It also told him that Kurogane had lost himself in a memory of some other ball, five hundred years gone, like the pasture and long-gone tree before. Fai didn’t want to startle him into returning to the present – and lose the image of that well-fitted coat – but he also wanted Kurogane to share what memory had left such an impression on him.

“Say, Kurogane,” he tried.

The ghost answered with an absent, “Hm?” and Fai figured it was probably safe enough to probe a little.

“What’s that you’re wearing?”

“Tomoyo made it,” he answered, but didn’t elaborate. There was a faraway look in his eyes.

Fai wondered what he was seeing.

Kurogane stayed quiet, which wasn’t unusual, but he was still actively looking around and didn’t seem broody. Fai caught Sakura’s eye and smiled at her. She beamed back, happy to see Kurogane so animated.

Fai looked up when he felt a brush of chill next to him. Kurogane had moved to stand close.

“Hey, mage. Wanna dance?”

_What?_

The ghost still had that distant expression, and it was extremely worrisome. He was looking at Fai with a hand outstretched and one corner of his mouth quirked up, but Fai wasn’t certain how much he was actually seeing. “Er,” he said intelligently.

“Come on. I’ve wanted to dance with you all night.”

Fai wasn’t sure what the best course of action was, but that tiny smile was intoxicating. He stood up, and placed his hand as well as he could on Kurogane’s, who didn’t seem to notice that their hands were phasing through each other slightly as Fai followed him down the steps.

Fai’s heart was beating hard in his chest, and his face felt warm. In the back of his mind he was aware that people were trying not to stare at the mad wizard, dancing alone, but in that moment he was focused entirely on Kurogane.

Fai didn’t know the dance the other man led him in, but he paid close attention and had no trouble picking up on the cues, and his steps followed the ghost’s, nimble and sure. They wove across the floor of the great hall, out of step with the musicians playing in one corner, but Kurogane must have been hearing his own music and he led Fai confidently to an entirely different tempo. Fai’s world narrowed down to just the two of them. There was no sound but his own footsteps, and the entire world was motionless apart from Kurogane and him. He felt hot all over except for the points of chill where Kurogane was touching him to guide him through the steps. Fai risked a glance away from their feet once he felt confident of the steps, and was snared for the rest of the dance by the little smile on Kurogane’s face.

Kurogane looked breathless and pleased as they eventually came to a stop. His incorporeal hand still rested cold against Fai’s, but now sounds were intruding upon their illusion of solitude and Fai felt his composure rapidly slipping away.

He looked closely at Fai. “Are you feeling okay, wizard? Let’s get you something to drink.” He looked around for the refreshment table, and led Fai along. People parted as they went, looking uncertain, and Fai knew the one they were parting for was him, the strange one-eyed wizard, who spoke to himself and wandered the castle halls alone at night like a ghost. The musicians hesitantly started playing again – when had they stopped? – and slowly the murmurs of conversations rose back up around them, not too close.

Fai grabbed a glass of wine before Kurogane could try to hand one to him – because this was going to end disastrously enough _already_ – and took a long swallow.

Kurogane was still peering worriedly at him. The ghost reached up to Fai’s face and placed the back of his hand against Fai’s cheek - trying to check his temperature, Fai realized. Fai’s stomach churned. He had never seen Kurogane forget this badly. He wouldn’t actually be able to _feel_ how flushed Fai was, but he could see well enough, and frowned. “Do you have a headache?”

Fai nodded, feeling the stirrings of relief. Maybe they could leave, and Kurogane would snap out of it on his own once out of the great hall.

“Here, let me introduce you to the baroness first, and then we can get you out of here.” Fai’s eye went wide and he opened his mouth to stop him, but it was too late. Kurogane was already turning to face the dais, where Fai saw Sakura watching them both, her hands gripping her skirts tightly, and wearing an expression of horrified sympathy. “Who-” Kurogane began.

A well-dressed merchant was standing nearby, and Kurogane whirled to face him. “Where’s the baroness?” he said. The merchant glanced in his direction. “Where’s Tomoyo?” he repeated. But the merchant was looking at someone behind Kurogane, and stepped entirely through him, oblivious, to greet the newcomer. Kurogane looked shocked. He strode over to a serving man whose back was turned to them, and reached out to grab him by the shoulder. His hand passed through the man and Kurogane stared.

He turned to Fai, angry. “Why doesn’t anyone answer me?” he demanded.

Fai didn’t know what to say. “Kurogane,” he tried, gently. “None of them can hear you.”

“Bullshit.”

Fai felt a pang of – _something_ – in his chest.

“Kurogane,” he attempted again. “You’re a ghost.” Kurogane looked at him, uncomprehending, and the pang twisted. He couldn’t stand seeing him like this. “You’re _dead_ , Kurogane. You died five hundred years ago.”

Kurogane’s brow furrowed, like he was trying to spot a joke. He shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. I’m talking to _you_ right now.”

Sakura looked like she might cry. Fai didn’t have any tears left in him, but his eye burned all the same. “ _Just_ to me,” he whispered. “No one else but me and Sakura can see you.”

Kurogane was looking around the hall like he had been earlier, but this was different. His eyes flickered over people, decorations, and he looked more and more lost. His appearance blurred and the formal dress uniform faded as the stronger self-image of himself in the broken armor reasserted itself. He looked at Fai again, wild-eyed.

“I’m dead.”

Fai nodded.

“I died – here.”

Fai gave a helpless shrug. He didn’t know where the man had died. But Kurogane wasn’t looking at him anymore. He was staring at the back of the hall like a man seeing his own grave, and Fai was filled with a sense of deep unease. The spiritual emanations that made up Kurogane’s substance oscillated wildly and flared outward, and visible changes settled over the hall within Fai’s perception. The light dimmed, and there was movement in the gloom. In the back of the hall, a set of iron-bound doors gaped silently open, and their motion transfixed Kurogane. A shadow flashed through them, purple ribbons streaming behind it as it fled, and the doors slammed shut. He took an unsteady step after it. Then another.

Fai followed him off the dais, away from the crowd. There were auditory manifestations around Kurogane now that only Fai could hear – the clang of weapons, shouting and screams. He could smell blood and smoke, and he had to force himself to suppress memories the tumult threatened to dredge up.

Kurogane stopped in front of the doors. In his hand, shadows writhed and then condensed into the shape of a ghostly sword, and Kurogane lifted it slowly to regard it with unfocused eyes. Then his gaze sharpened suddenly, and he spun, cutting brutally through an indistinct shadow and kicking out at another vague shape before making another violent slash through it. The illusion was in full swing, now, and Fai tried not to flinch at the screams of long-dead soldiers reverberating in his mind. Kurogane was surrounded by shades, faceless, with the cacophony of battle all around them. He scythed through them with desperate ferocity, never giving up his station at the doors, and the silent howls were deafening in Fai’s head. Kurogane was panting hard now. There were very few shadow opponents remaining, and his sword was dripping with phantom blood.

Kurogane lifted his head, teeth bared, and pinned Fai with a savage gaze.

A crossbow bolt flew into the scene and Kurogane brought his blade up to deflect it, but more bolts streaked under his guard and punched into the holes in his armor. The holes they had _left_ , Fai realized, his hands at his mouth, appalled. Kurogane dropped to one knee with a soft exhalation, eyes wide, and somewhere men were cheering. Fai could see the dark blooms of blood on his clothing. A spear flashed at him and Fai thought that would be the end. But incredibly, Kurogane knocked it aside and cut down the spearman at the knees. And then that was all he had left. He slumped back against the doors and used them to hold himself up as he pushed himself back to his feet, struggling to draw breath. With every ounce of his remaining strength, he drove his sword down into a gap between the flagstones, where it sank deep, slanting in front of the doors so that they couldn’t be opened without removing it first.

Kurogane slid back to the ground, one hand still weakly grasping the hilt of his sword. His blood was a terrible smear down the wooden paneling. Fai couldn’t believe how young he looked. His head rolled onto his chest, and his hand slipped from the sword. There was a pulse of power, the gloom tinted momentarily violet, a final roaring noise, and then- nothing. The sounds and visions dropped away and Fai was left standing, alone, in a perfectly clean back corner of the castle’s great hall, while people danced and celebrated behind him.

Kurogane was gone.

Fai stared, unmoving, at the spot where Kurogane had died, until he realized that Syaoran was speaking to him. He turned stiffly to face the lad, and let him take his elbow and guide Fai’s faltering steps back to the rooms that had once been Kurogane’s.

Syaoran hovered for a bit once there, but Fai took scant notice of him, and eventually the lad saw himself out. Fai managed to make it to the bed, and he fell upon it and gave himself up to the black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I originally said this would be three chapters. WHOOPS.
> 
> Last chapter WILL be up soon. I've just never gotten to experience a cliffhanger from this side before, and it's actually kind of exhilarating. *cackle*


	5. Chapter 5

Kurogane didn’t appear again for a week.

Fai waited up the first two nights, pacing and desolate.

The third, fourth, and fifth days, Fai sought out Syaoran and the castle’s library, and Sakura’s family histories, and they all three worked to search out any trace of knowledge that might help. Fai wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he hoped they would find _something_. He had vague thoughts of finding a grave, of perhaps picking up on some resonating thread in the pattern of reality that would lead him to Kurogane’s lost spirit. But there was nothing useful to be found, not even any mention of Lady Tomoyo. Fai continued to stay up each night, and Sakura and Syaoran both watched him with concern as he grew more frantic.

The sixth night, Sakura begged Fai to rest while she and Syaoran kept vigil together in the sitting room for him, and Fai was exhausted enough to allow it. He regretted it when by morning the ghost had still not reappeared, and Sakura looked utterly crushed. She hugged him fiercely before she left, and told him not to give up hope, and Syaoran brought Fai a tray of food, having guessed correctly that Fai was unwilling to leave the rooms or interact with any of the other castle staff to feed himself. Fai forced himself to eat, but only because Kurogane would have wanted him to.

Fai dozed off again a couple of hours before sunset, napping fitfully with his head on his knees in the armchair by the fire. He startled awake frequently to distant sounds, and dropped back into semi-consciousness each time Kurogane was not there.

Sunset neared, and Fai roused himself. He wandered over to the desk and thought bleakly about the unlikeliness of being able to modify any of the seeking spell variants he knew to seek out apparitions, or to even function at all with far too little magical power behind them. But it was still worth trying. He sat down and stared dismally at a clean page. He lifted his pen, trying to order his thoughts.

Kurogane strode through the door, eyes furious.

Fai’s vision swam and his head pounded with something that might have been _thank you thank you thank you_ such that it took him a moment to focus again on Kurogane. He held the ghostly sword, Fai saw, afraid of what that meant. Fai opened his mouth to say – he wasn’t sure what. But before he could utter a word, Kurogane held up his other arm. His hand was in a tight fist around the throat of a feebly struggling, ethereal beast that would have been invisible to anyone without mage sight. It looked like a cross between a star-nosed mole and an eel, with too many eyes, and was dripping a pale yellow ichor.

“Mage. Tell me what these things are.”

Fai stood up in shock. “Where did you find that?” And then, with dread, “There are _more_ of them?”

Kurogane gave the thing a final wrench, and it burst in a cloud of unwholesome smoke. “Not anymore,” he said, satisfied. “I started seeing them on my patrols awhile ago. Just one at a time, and not often. Maybe every few months. Nothing since you showed up, until now.” He grinned, sharp and dangerous. “When I spotted the first one, it went after _me_. I didn’t need a sword to kill something that weak. That last one made five that I’ve killed.”

Fai was deeply disturbed. “It’s an animus seeker, a magical construct. Somebody made it, to hunt for souls that have a weak connection to their body – dreamers, people recovering from a long illness...children…” He felt sick. “Creating one is a capital offense.”

Kurogane’s expression darkened. “Can you find where it came from?”

“Yes. But—” and there was something he had to know, he couldn’t move without knowing.

Kurogane forestalled him. “I don’t know. I was following Tomoyo, and don’t look at me like that. She wasn’t just a memory this time. I think it was her actual soul.” He frowned, thinking. “All I know is that I woke up someplace dark. There were no stars, and she led me to the edge of the dark and said that I wasn’t done yet. And she gave me back my sword. When I stepped across I was in the town, and that thing was there. So I killed it and came back.”

That wasn’t what Fai had wanted to ask. He wanted to know if Kurogane was alright. He wanted to know if he _would_ be ‘done’ soon, and if that meant that he would disappear again.

If it meant he would disappear for good.

Kurogane would just say, truthfully, that he didn’t know. He would say that it didn’t matter, because he was here now. Kurogane had accepted the boundaries of his curse long ago and worked within them. Fai was the one who was afraid to lose somebody again.

Instead of voicing any of that, Fai closed his eye and nodded, throat tight. He sat down again and took up the sheet of paper. An idea came to him, and he began to write. He covered it with tiny flowing runes, and folded it into a little paper bird. When he was finished, he activated it with a crumb of magic and watched it stir and then glide from his palm. It fluttered against the door and Fai opened it, and the bird made its way slowly down the hallway, following the miniscule traces of foul magic that remained of the animus seeker back to their source.

“Follow me.”

“Wait.” Fai stopped and looked back. “If somebody made those things with magic, what do you plan to do about it? You can’t use enough magic to battle some evil wizard, and I can’t defend you from anything I can’t touch.” Kurogane still held his sword, but he waved it harmlessly through a chair for emphasis.

Kurogane was right. Fai thought for a moment, torn, and made his decision. He went into the bedchamber, and reached under the bed to pull out his travelling case. He opened it, feeling inside the dimensional pockets for the only item remaining inside apart from the chest of Yuui’s things, and withdrew the staff of a High Wizard.

He had intended never to hold it again. But the staff would augment his available magic enough to let him hold his own against an average opponent, and if there was somebody in the castle town using souls to power spells, they had to be stopped.

Fai looked Kurogane in the eyes and nodded. Kurogane gave him a look of pride. “Let’s go.”

 

Fai’s tracking spell led them out of the castle, and down into the sleeping town. He’d not ventured there often during his time in Clow, and the streets were dark and unfamiliar. The paper bird fluttered unhesitating before them down the quiet lanes, and Kurogane and Fai followed. The crescent moon illuminated them both: a dead warrior with a sword that could cut nothing and a determined pace that made no sound at all, and a one-eyed wizard with crippled magic and a staff he had given up, walking in perfect step together.

The paper bird took them, eventually, to building with a sign beside the door reading, _“Kyle Rondart: Apothecary”_.

Fai could see lamplight through the glazed windows. He sensed no spells, no wards, no magic at all. He knocked.

A voice inside called, “It’s open!”

Kurogane and Fai looked at each other. Fai pushed open the door to the sight of an empty shop front, and an open doorway to a back workroom. He walked to the doorway, wary, and scanned the room. The workroom contained long shelves of neatly labeled jars of powders, dried herbs, and things preserved in spirits of alcohol. Dominating the middle of the room was a long counter, covered with complex assortments of flasks, glass tubing, and balances. A man sat behind the counter, polishing something that looked like a strange cross between a wire parasol frame and a weather vane.

The man was no wizard. This was alchemical equipment, Fai realized.

“Are you Kyle Rondart?”

The man gave a polite nod, blinking mildly behind round spectacles. “Apothecary, at your service – potions and remedies, for both men and beasts.”

There was something about the man that made Fai’s skin crawl, despite the friendly appearance. He decided to waste no time.

“Good evening!” Fai said with false cheer. “By my authority as High Wizard, you are under arrest to be tried for creation of animus seekers.”

The man wore an expression of confused innocence. “I beg your pardon?”

“It’s him,” Kurogane said definitively from behind Fai. “I can smell that thing’s stink all over him.” This close, Fai had sensed the residual energies around the man as well, and he nodded.

The alchemist did a double-take, looking sharply at Kurogane. Rondart’s jaw dropped for a beat, and then his expression changed to one of manic glee.

He laughed wildly. “Is _that_ what’s been happening? A _ghost_ has been destroying my seekers?”

Fai frowned. Rondart was not reacting the way that someone should when confronted by a wizard who knew he had been using forbidden magics. Something was wrong. He wasn’t a wizard, yet he could see Kurogane, and had admitted to making the animus seekers. Fai leveled his staff and released a spell of binding-

And the spell was diverted neatly into the vaned rod next to the alchemist and conducted impotently away. Fai realized as it was happening and began another casting, but Rondart had already pulled a stick of wax from a pocket and was scrawling something on the wall. The shape sparked and flared into a rapidly expanding disruption field. It passed through Kurogane, who had the briefest of moments to look surprised and pained before fizzing out of existence.

Fai hadn’t even had time to shout a denial before it was done.

“No,” he breathed. He sank to the ground, his staff clattering uselessly beside him, and his vision was blurry for some reason.

The alchemist was adding something to a flask and speaking again.

“That thing has been an incredible inconvenience for me. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to create an animus seeker? The rendering process is expensive and extremely long – no time to sleep for days or you’ll miss one of countless crucial steps! I must have lost half a dozen of them to that damned wraith since I came here. I was running out of ingredients, I tried _everything_ , and I’m nearly out of time.” He gave a little laugh. “Five hundred years of uninterrupted success! You have to renew its effects, you know. And you have to move every decade or so, too, or people start asking questions. And nothing went wrong until I came back to Clow!” The alchemist gritted his teeth for a moment. “You know, I almost left when you showed up, too. A high wizard, on top of my failing animus seekers. But I did a little digging. Punished for something, as it turns out, with most of your magic sealed away, and no threat to me. You couldn’t curdle milk with the magic you have access to now, could you?” He cast a triumphant glance over Fai. “But I’m so thrilled that you’re here now. All I needed was one intact soul for my elixir.”

Rondart paused, clearly expecting Fai to ask, _what elixir?_ , but Fai wasn’t interested in any part of the proceedings. He kept seeing Kurogane’s face in his mind, twisted in a noiseless scream before he dissipated.

Rondart tsked. “Typical of a wizard, I suppose. Those fools at your college rejected me, too. They said there was no way I had discovered the secret to eternal life. Your sort is wrapped up in your precious innate magical power, manipulating reality by wresting it into different shapes. It’s truly brutish, I’ll have you know.” He held up a flask to the light, admiring the colorless liquid within. “Nothing like convincing reality to change _itself_ for you through the elegance of alchemy.”

He looked over to Fai, kneeling on the floor, and gave a chilling smile.

“Luckily for me, you got here just in time for me to show you exactly what I mean.”

He was uncapping a small brown glass bottle as he spoke, and let three careful drops fall from it onto the floor. There was a burning smell, and then the air filled with a thick, cloying scent. Fai tried to cover his mouth, but found to his horror that he couldn’t move his limbs. It was all he could do to simply remain upright in the paralytic vapors. Specks of black floated across Fai's vision. He had the feeling that some amount of time had passed with him held there on the floor, but he wasn’t sure.

The alchemist was kneeling on the floor next to Fai, untroubled by the gases, and cupping the side of Fai’s face. He had a little crucible and a long, slim dirk. “I need your vital force for my Elixir of Life,” he was saying. “But first, a little bloodletting, before we siphon your soul. It will tear if we don’t weaken the physical connection. One of the first things you learn!” He took Fai’s limp hand and drew the point of the knife across it, holding the crucible to catch the bright droplets. “Don’t think of it as dying! Consider it a necessary contribution to my work. Why, a soul as powerful as yours will make an elixir potent enough to last me another century, alone! Think of all the good your vital essence will do for science! And I’m very excited to learn what I can do with a wizard’s blood. After all, I’ve already discovered the Elixir of Life. Just imagine what I’ll be able to discover in another hundred years.”

Fai felt dizzy with misery and nausea and pain. There was something. Something he could do...

Using blood as a magical medium was one of the most basic, simplistic forms of magery. No wizard of any standing would dare be caught using something so prosaic. Even so, blood magic was extremely potent.

Fai focused on the feeling of blood welling out of his palm, and released every last scrap of magical energy he had into it. The alchemist could utilize magical energy, yes, but he couldn’t _sense_ it. Within moments, the crucible was filled to capacity with Fai’s magic, and the parasite sealed within his eye socket could smell it. It scrabbled, frantic to get out, and Rondart was standing, walking back to his workbench. Fai recalled the vision of Kurogane using the last of his strength to stand in battle, and tried to find that same resolve within himself now, to fight against the fumes. He forced a weak, trembling hand up to his face, and pulled the seal off.

Rondart had reached the counter filled with alchemical apparatus, and set the crucible down next to the stoppered crystal phial waiting for Fai’s soul as its final ingredient. The alchemist reached for an empty flask to decant the blood into. He didn’t have a chance to start.

The soul-leech boiled out of Fai in a space-defying, expanding mass of writhing claws and mouths, and slammed into Rondart’s back to get at the power-infused blood. Together they crashed across the countertop. Glass and wire and unidentifiable potions scattered across the room, and Fai crawled away across the fallen debris as best he could.

It was chaos behind the counter, and Fai closed his eye. The ache made it hard to focus on anything, although the vapors were finally starting to clear. He could feel his magical strength replenishing itself slowly without the parasite sucking it dry, but he knew the thing would be back for him as soon as it had finished his bloody bait and anything else it found edible. Fai didn’t know if he could re-seal the thing now that it was loose, either. It had already grown more in size, and he wondered where his staff was. Would it consume him entirely if he failed, then tear through the town, seeking anything even slightly magical to devour? Would it make it to the castle, find Sakura and Syaoran?

His eye snapped open. He hadn’t even thought of that possibility, and he cursed himself now. He pushed himself to his feet and tried to decide how to act.

Sounds of destruction were still coming from that side of the room as the creature feasted itself on alchemical energies, but to Fai’s horror, he saw Rondart crawling out from around the end of the counter, bruised and furious, with a handful of small cuts, but otherwise uninjured.

Rondart's spectacles were cracked and askew, but he was still holding the vicious-looking knife, and he advanced on Fai with murder in his eyes. Fai backed away. He was still too weakened for a physical fight, and his magic was renewing itself too slowly to be of any use yet. Over Rondart’s shoulder, Fai saw the alien creature climbing noisily back over the counter towards them, mouths questing among overturned glassware and shattered jars for more magical energy.

He tripped backwards over debris on the floor as he retreated from them both, and Rondart lunged, with the blade aimed at Fai’s heart. Fai steeled himself against what he knew to be coming, and-

Kurogane lept through the open doorway, with his sword in one hand, and – was that their _game board??_ – in his other hand. He struck Rondart an utterly savage blow across the face with the solid board. The twin sounds of wood and bone cracking echoed above the clamor, and Rondart dropped like a string-cut puppet. The splinters of the board fell from Kurogane’s grasp, the barrier spell hopelessly disrupted, but he gave no heed. He gripped the sword two-handed, snarling, and charged the advancing rift-beast.

The creature had grown to the size of a man, and it struck back at Kurogane with dozens of clawed legs with too many joints. It was physical in form, yet Kurogane’s ethereal sword slashed into it as if it was just as solid as the beast. The creature straddled the border between material and ethereal, and it bled tar-black at each bite from the ghostly blade. Likewise though, it could rake Kurogane in return, and motes of spirit energy scattered where it caught him.

Fai watched Kurogane do battle for the second time. The last time had been nightmare enough, and things now were all too real. His heart was in his mouth, but. _But_. Kurogane was _winning_. He drove the beast back, hacking at it and leaving dismembered bits of it strewn across the floor. The thing screamed as Kurogane impaled it through one of its mouths. He darted back to avoid a slashing claw, then pierced it again through another mouth.

From the corner of his eye, Fai saw Rondart’s fingers twitch.

The alchemist propped himself up on his hands, swaying. His jaw jutted at a grotesque and bloody angle.

Rondart pulled another stick of wax from a pocket and started slowly drawing his dispelling symbol again.

Fai cast about for something, anything to use to distract him. The lab was in shambles. Fai’s staff lay nearby, but he was still too empty of power for it to help, even with the alchemist’s grounding rod a twisted wreck on the floor. Fai’s searching hand fell upon the little crystal phial of elixir, forgotten in the wreckage of the workroom, and his heart leapt. “Rondart!” Fai shouted, holding it up.

The alchemist’s eyes went wide. He screamed something unintelligible, and Fai threw the phial at the wall.

It would have flown true to shatter against the stone wall, but blood made Fai’s grip slippery, and the phial’s arc was a little to one side of what he had intended it to be. Across the room, Kurogane was crouching, sword plunged deep into the now-motionless bulk of the rift-beast, and he straightened at that exact moment.

The phial passed entirely through Kurogane’s form. The elixir _within it_ passed through Kurogane as well.

Rondart’s Elixir of Life had been prepared for weeks. It had lacked only a soul’s vital essence to be complete.

It had a soul now.

Kurogane _howled_.

Time slowed for Fai, watching. He saw the dormant matrix of the formula inside the vial alter itself the moment it contacted Kurogane’s spiritual energy, watched it consume itself in that instant and flare outward into a complete pattern around Kurogane. He could see the pathing of magical energy as it tried to flow into alignment, and the points of strain where the magic sought to affect a physical form that was not there.

The elixir had absorbed a great deal of Kurogane’s ghostly essence immediately. Fai wasn’t sure why it hadn’t absorbed all of it, but Kurogane was only faintly visible now, one knee on the ground and his head bowed beneath the magical forces acting on him. He clung to his sword, the only part of him that still looked as solid as before – Fai thought there might have been a faint violet tint to it – but was immobilized by the power centered on him.

Kurogane was simultaneously the elixir’s source of fuel and its target. Fai could read the intent of the interlaced arrays of transmutational fields – they were meant to rejuvenate an imbiber’s body, to calculate and restore it to peak youth and health, perfect homeostasis. It was a work of art, incredibly complex. Fai could even see functions within the matrix to detect bodily integrity, that would cue the reconstruction of missing flesh or organs. Magic pulsed within those sub-functions now, identifying the total _absence_ of a body, but with too little power behind them to begin building one from nothing.

The magic shook, suspended without a way to release itself, and Kurogane looked even more diminished as it drew from him, trying to do what it was meant to. It would continue to draw more of Kurogane’s remaining spiritual energy trying to power itself, until there was nothing of him left, not even the faintest ghostly smudge on the pattern of reality. The energy of a single soul would have been enough to rejuvenate a reasonably-intact living body. To _create_ a body to rejuvenate would need many times that power. If Fai could feed power into the active matrix… If he had more power…

His despairing glance fell on the body of the rift-beast. _Something both material and ethereal..._

Adrenaline and hope drove Fai to his feet. He snatched up his fallen staff and tapped into the reservoirs within the magic-engorged parasite. There was a staggering amount of energy there, and Fai wove a channel to conduct it into the elixir’s matrix. It sucked up the available power like a thirsty sponge, and Fai had to shield his eye against the resulting brilliance. Fai, linked to the flow while he maintained the channel between the creature and elixir’s field of effect, felt a faint jerk within him. But it didn’t matter. Energy hummed audibly as the magical functions identified Kurogane’s residual pattern and began reconstructing it.

It seemed to go on forever. Fai leaned on the staff and panted, not sure how he was still standing. But he stayed, until the last trickle of power flowed along his channel and he allowed the last bits of his own magic to go with it. The blinding aura faded, and Fai let himself approach. Kurogane lay facedown and motionless on the ground. Fai knelt beside him, feeling sick with anxiety.

His sword was gone. But he was there, naked, but whole, and _breathing_.

Fai let out a shuddering breath of his own. It was more than half sob, but it was part laughter too. He reached out to touch Kurogane’s shoulder, and he could _touch_ it. Kurogane was solid and warm beneath his hand, and Fai marvelled. He reached for Kurogane’s forehead, smoothed his hair away the same way Kurogane had tried to do for him those times he was bedridden. He wanted to laugh and he wanted to cry, he _was_ crying, he could feel the tears on his cheeks.

Kurogane stirred. His brow furrowed, and he blinked slowly several times. He managed to push himself up a little, and caught sight of Fai’s face. They stared at each other.

“What,” Kurogane breathed, “the _fuck_.”

 

Fai helped Kurogane to his feet, and, good gracious, the man was _heavy_ , tall and broad and solid with muscle. They needed to find something for Kurogane to wear back to the castle, but Fai was deeply reluctant to take anything of the alchemist’s. _And_ he was deeply reluctant to stop looking at Kurogane, who didn’t seem to care in the slightest that he was entirely unclothed. Kurogane was more interested in the feeling of his arm across Fai’s shoulders, and didn’t seem inclined to let go. Eventually they settled on taking the rectangular woven rug from the front room, and wrapping it around Kurogane’s hips for public decency’s sake. Kurogane had insisted on tearing a strip of curtain off, first, and bade the mage hold still, while the same hands that Fai had seen break men and monsters both wrapped the cloth with infinite gentleness around Fai’s head to cover his missing eye.

Speaking of the alchemist, though.

The alchemist was lying prone where Fai had last seen him. Kurogane rolled him over with his foot. The knife stuck out from the center of his chest, and they regarded him for a moment. The way he had lain, there was no way he could have simply fallen on the blade, and Fai didn’t like it. Someone like Rondart could very well have had contingencies set up, some way to let his corroded soul flee to a safe location. Fai absolutely did not believe he was dead for good. But they had time for now – soul manipulation magics were generally slow going, and Fai would have sensed if anything was happening in the immediate area. Fai wasn’t sure what sort of creature Rondart had made himself into beneath centuries of spiritual rot, but he was certain they had enough time to rest for awhile before hunting him down.

For now, he only wanted to get Kurogane back to their rooms at the castle. Fai was beyond exhausted himself, and though Kurogane tried to hide it, it was clear he was still shaken and having to adjust to having a body. Fai’s magic wasn’t replenishing itself properly, and he recalled the tearing feeling from earlier with some concern, but no regret. There was a little power there. He would live. _Kurogane_ would live, and Fai felt a flutter in his heart at the thought.

Together, they stepped outside of the apothecary shop. The sky overhead was starless, the dark of night a faded, lightening purple in the first blushes of dawn. Fai had found the key to the shop in the front room as well, and he locked the door and hung a _‘closed’_ sign on it. They could deal with cleanup later. He looked over at Kurogane, and sudden worry gripped him. The man had gone rigid beside him.

“What? What is it?” Fai asked, with mounting apprehension. He stretched out his senses, feeling for anything to indicate what was wrong. Kurogane was staring east into the blue and gold sky, the sun still low and more than half-hidden by a barn. A rooster somewhere was crowing noisily, and a fresh morning breeze stirred Kurogane’s dark hair. His eyes were watering in the rays of first light, and he brought the hand that wasn’t holding the rug at his waist up to shield them, but he didn’t turn away, drinking in the sight.

“It’s fine,” he said, to ease Fai’s worry. He lowered his hand to rest on Fai’s shoulder again, and continued staring rapt at the horizon.

This was Kurogane’s first sunrise in over half a millennium, Fai realized, and found he had to blink back tears of his own.

“It’s fine,” Kurogane repeated, and this time he was looking at Fai when he said it.

Fai swallowed the lump in his throat, and smiled up at Kurogane. He reached up to cover Kurogane’s hand with his own.

“You’re right. It is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -THE END-
> 
> (ugh, now with my proper italics formatting)
> 
> Thank you so much, everybody, for your patience while I struggled to get this fic out amid ridiculous apartment maintenance issues and urgent pet stuff. Better late than never! 
> 
> My deepest thanks yet again to my beta bestie, [elfhawk3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/elfhawk3/), for helping me through a number of trouble spots and just vastly improving this fic. She let me show her the Tsubasa anime earlier this year, and has been infinitely patient while I cried at her these last weeks about how infuriatingly attractive that stupid, sexy ninja is. And many thanks also to [pariahsdream](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pariahsdream/), who let me ramble on about this fic to her for a good bit and was happy to give it a read. They are the best!~
> 
> Finally, like, geez. I didn't set _out_ to mirror canon left and right. It honestly just sort of happened and I didn't authorize it one bit. D:

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for Team Fantasy, for the 2015 KuroFai Olympics, "Fantasy versus Sci-Fi"! My prompt was "Nightlife". 
> 
> Voting for the Olympics is over, but if you want to read more KuroFai that's not on the Archive, head on over to [Dreamwidth](http://kurofai.dreamwidth.org/tag/2015+olympics) to see the other entries for this year's Olympics, and to see previous years' fics too!


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